


Blood and Teacups

by thetbone



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Aunt-Niece Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother's Day, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetbone/pseuds/thetbone
Summary: "She racked her brain for an appropriate excuse that would satisfy Sabrina. A harrowing sounded preferable to spending a Saturday amongst the mothers of Greendale Elementary fourth graders. But when she looked at Sabrina’s puppy dog eyes—the look she would swear on the unholy bible in front of the entire coven didn’t work on her—she was done for."Zelda accompanies Sabrina to a Mother's Day tea party.





	1. We Don’t Condone Secrets Unless They're to Humans

**Author's Note:**

> I'm obsessed with the Zelda and Sabrina relationship and couldn't get this sweet little pre-show idea out of my mind. I'm still getting in the grove of nailing down everyone's voices, but I hope I'm doing the characters justice. :)

Hilda tugged at the kitchen window, letting in the sunlight and crisp Greendale air. It was a Wednesday morning in early spring. The last of the snow had melted just weeks ago, making way for blossoming flowers and sprouting leaves.

Sabrina bounced down the staircase, blonde hair secured neatly with a headband.

“Morning, aunties. Morning, Ambrose,” she greeted.

Zelda briefly glanced up from her morning paper. “Sabrina,” she acknowledged before taking another puff from her cigarette.

“Good morning, sweet,” Hilda said, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. Sabrina plopped into her chair, greedily digging in.

Ambrose bit a corner off his toast, amused. “Famished this morning, are we cousin?”

Sabrina shrugged. “My teacher says it’s not unusual for fourth graders to go through growth spurts,” she replied before shoveling another forkful into her mouth.

“Speaking of teachers, am I supposed to sign your folder saying I checked your grades today?” Hilda asked, placing the eggs back in the refrigerator.

“Mm,” Sabrina nodded, digging into her backpack. “I forgot.”

Zelda lowered her paper just enough to shoot Sabrina a chastising look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full—it’s barbaric. And you must stop being so forgetful.”

Ambrose chuckled. “Last week you said the grades folder was an asinine display of coddling.”

“And I stand by that. But that doesn’t excuse irresponsibility.”

Sabrina swallowed her food, bringing the folder to the counter for Hilda to examine. “Sorry.”

Hilda flipped through the assignments. “Spelling test: A+, math worksheet: A+, social studies quiz: A+. We’re living in the midst of brilliance!” she praised.

“Hey now, she’s got nothing on me when it comes to social studies.” Ambrose pointed out.

“Except you have about 400 years on her,” Hilda teased, continuing to sift through the papers. “A+ on your science worksheet, A+ on your book report,” she stopped when a small pink envelope dropped to the table. “Ah, and what’s this? It says ‘reply requested ASAP.’”

Sabrina’s eyes widened, and she snatched the envelope off the counter before Hilda could open it, thrusting it behind her back. “That wasn’t supposed to be in there.”

Hilda blinked, surprised at her strong reaction. Sabrina took note of her concerned expression and pivoted to damage control.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sabrina promised.

“Perhaps you could let me take a little peek anyway? The packaging seemed urgent.”

“Really, Aunt Hilda. I promise it’s not important.”

“Could you at least tell me what’s inside so I don’t fret?”

“You don’t have to worry—”

“Oh, for hells’ sake,” Zelda said, agitatedly setting her newspaper on the table. “Sabrina, give it here,” she demanded, holding out her hand expectantly.

“But it’s nothing,” Sabrina reiterated, albeit with less conviction.

“If it were truly nothing then there would be no use in trying to hide it, now would there? You know we don’t condone secrets.”

“You make me keep the fact that I’m half witch a secret from everyone,” Sabrina pointed out in a last-ditch effort to avoid the dreaded conversation of the envelope’s contents.

Ambrose whistled. “She has a point.”

Zelda shot him a deathly glare. “We don’t condone secrets unless they're to _humans_ ,” she specified. “Now out with it,” Zelda snapped her fingers impatiently.

Sabrina squirmed, but one threatening eyebrow raise later the envelope was in Zelda’s hand.

Zelda flicked open the flap, taking out a piece of heavy cardstock. A mountain of glitter rained down from the page, making itself at home on her perfectly smooth skirt. Zelda gritted her teeth, attempting to rid herself of the offending sparkles with a harsh sweep of her hand. She groaned when she only succeeded in removing around 20% of them. “Blasted things,” she muttered.

She turned her attention back to the situation at hand, reading from the paper. “You’re invited to a spa and tea party at Lucy Templeton’s house.”

“That sounds like fun, darling!” Hilda chimed in. “I’m afraid I’m missing the mortifying part.”

“As am I,” Zelda concurred, setting the invitation aside. “Aside from the fact that a spa and tea party sounds positively unsanitary.”

“Will none of your friends be there?” Hilda inquired.

“No, Roz and Susie are both going,” Sabrina said, slumping back down in her seat. “It’s all they’ve been talking about all week.”

Hilda stroked Sabrina’s curls. “And you don’t want to join them?”

“It’s not that.” Sabrina sighed, carefully considering her words. “Lucy is best friends with Gertie Miller, and she made it very clear I wasn’t welcome. Lucy only gave me an invitation because the teacher made her hand one out to all of the girls.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Hilda consoled.

“It is true. She thinks I’m weird because I sleep with dead people.”

Ambrose choked on his coffee. “That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

Zelda scoffed. “It most certainly is not. Is she too dull to understand how a mortuary works?”

“Well, she is ten,” Hilda gently reminded her.

Zelda rolled her eyes, waving her off. “Is this terrible Gertie girl the only thing keeping you from going?” she asked.

Sabrina sank a little lower into her chair, gnawing on her thumbnail. Zelda firmly took her wrist, promptly removing her finger her mouth. “Use your words, Sabrina.”

“It’s a Mother’s Day party,” Sabrina admitted. “You’re supposed to bring your mom.”

The room got quiet, even the wind seeming to pause for a moment.

“I see,” Zelda nodded, softening ever so slightly. After a beat, she squared her shoulders, finally coming up with the most comforting thing she could think of. “Well, as you know, Mother’s Day is nothing more than a meaningless commercial holiday made up by mortals to sell half-wilted grocery store flowers and dim-witted cards. I see no reason as to why Hilda shouldn’t accompany you.”

Sabrina glanced over her shoulder. “Would you?”

“I would be delighted, pet,” Hilda beamed, tapping Sabrina on the nose. Sabrina smiled, though a hint of sadness still tinted her eyes.

“Marvelous,” Zelda proclaimed, checking the “yes” box with the fountain pen she kept nearby while perusing the paper. “Then it’s settled.” She plopped the invitation back into the envelope, sealing it before handing it back to Sabrina.

Hilda went to the sink to finish the dishes while Sabrina slid the envelope back into her folder, zipping it into her backpack.

“The party is this Sunday, yes?” Hilda asked.

“Saturday,” Sabrina corrected. “Lucy and her mom are having it the day before Mother’s Day so they can visit Lucy’s grandma on Sunday.”

“Oh,” Hilda cringed. “Oh, dear.”

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

Zelda took a deep breath in order to maintain composure. She didn’t take kindly to the constant interruptions and dramatics, particularly when they concerned such trivial matters pertaining to human affairs.

“It seems I may have double booked myself.”

“With what?” Zelda asked shortly. “What kind of activities could your social calendar possibly entail?”

“I told Dr. Cee I would help him repaint the store.”

“Who in Satan’s name is Dr. Cee?” Zelda asked.

“The bookstore man,” Hilda replied, slightly wounded.

“She’s only been talking about him for ages,” Ambrose added.

“What can I say? He’s a handsome fellow,” Hilda giggled, allowing herself to revel in schoolgirl antics for a second before shaking her head, bringing herself back to reality. “But of course, I’ll cancel with him,” she told Sabrina.

Sabrina shook her head. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

“You’re much more important than a bookshop owner, no matter how dreamy he may be."

“Really, it’s fine,” Sabrina said adamantly. “I don’t have to go.”

“Why doesn’t Aunt Zelda take you?” Ambrose suggested, a mischevious curve to his grin.

Zelda narrowed her eyes at Ambrose, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke in his direction and making a mental note to put a deliciously wicked curse on him later. She glanced over at a silently pleading Hilda and vowed to acquaint her with the Cain pit once again very soon.

She racked her brain for an appropriate excuse that would satisfy Sabrina. A harrowing sounded preferable to spending a Saturday amongst the mothers of Greendale Elementary fourth graders.

But when she looked at Sabrina’s puppy dog eyes—the look she would swear on the unholy bible in front of the entire coven didn’t work on her—she was done for.

“Please, Aunt Zee?” Sabrina asked.

“If you wish,” she replied.

She couldn’t say no.

She could never say no to Sabrina.


	2. Let's Go Make Some Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know it may seem rather coven-like, what with the matching outfits and intense dedication to the cause, but you have to believe me when I say it’s nothing like that!” Sarah completed her speech with a practiced, artificial laugh. 
> 
> “Oh, I do,” Zelda assured her. “You don’t have to worry about that.” Zelda tried not to let it show just how offended she was that this vapid woman would dare compare her daft vanity project to the devilish glory of a coven, even in jest.
> 
> Zelda and Sabrina encounter some unfortunate guests the Mother's Day tea party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely kudos and comments so far! You guys are so kind, and I love hearing your feedback. This story will have one more chapter that will be posted within the next few days. :)
> 
> (Also, if you feel so inclined, you can follow me on Twitter at @Elphaba_Anne. I'm desperate for more CAOS mutuals.)

Zelda and Sabrina walked up the cobblestone path to Lucy Templeton’s house. It was a hot pink monstrosity—almost the exact shade as Pepto Bismol—though it had the opposite effect on Zelda, the aggressiveness of the color making her nauseous.

“Are you ready?” Sabrina asked.

Zelda nodded, eyes still firmly fixated on the cottage. The columns were a chipper white, the roofing robin’s egg blue. It looked like the spring equivalent of a gingerbread house. Though they were obviously going for cutesy and quaint, Zelda thought it looked dreadfully tacky. Whatever happened to taste?

“Are you nervous?” Sabrina asked. 

Zelda snapped her gaze away from the building to look at Sabrina. Zelda scowled at the amused smile playing on her lips. “Sabrina, please, that’s preposterous. I’ve battled demons and helped birth leaders of the unholy world. I should hope I can endure a silly tea party.” 

Sabrina didn’t push the topic but wordlessly took Zelda’s hand before climbing the few steps up the porch. Zelda raised her free hand to knock, but before her knuckle could make contact, the door swung open to reveal a woman in a fitted sweatshirt as hot pink as her house.

“Hello, hello!” she greeted. “I’m Sarah Templeton—Lucy’s mom. And who might you two be?”

“Sabrina,” Sabrina said, sticking out her hand.

Sarah returned Sabrina’s handshake. “Wow, what good manners you have.” She turned to Zelda. “You’re teaching her well.”

“Trying to,” Zelda said, straightening her already near-perfect posture with pride. 

Sarah reached out her hand to Zelda. “And you’re Sabrina’s mom…” she began, searching her brain for a first name.

“Aunt,” Zelda corrected. “I’m her Aunt Zelda.” 

“Zelda,” Sarah repeated. “How interesting. Is that a family name?”

Zelda twisted her mouth into a tight smile. She couldn’t exactly tell her she was named after one of the most important heroines in the Church of Night’s sacrilegious history—just from the entryway, Zelda could see two upright crucifix decorations in the house. “Something like that.”

Sarah opened the door and led them into the large dining room where there were thirty or so chairs spread around the space. “Well, come on in. Have a seat. I think almost everyone’s here. We’ll start serving some tea and refreshments soon.”

Roz and Susie caught sight of Sabrina from the opposite side of the room. The two immediately got up and began barreling towards her, only slowing when they caught sight of Zelda’s disapproving look.

“‘Brina, you came!” Roz exclaimed, wrapping Sabrina in a hug.

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you,” Susie added, taking her turn to embrace Sabrina. 

“Hi, Ms. Spellman,” Roz greeted timidly.

“Hello, girls,” Zelda responded.

“Where are you guys sitting?” Sabrina asked.

Susie nervously glanced at Roz. “We tried to save you a seat, but Willa Merriman sat down at our table and...well...we couldn’t exactly ask her to leave.”

“Oh,” Sabrina’s shoulders dropped.

“Sorry, ‘Brina,” Roz said guiltily. “But after tea, we’re going to play games and stuff, so it’s not like we won’t see each other at all,” Roz reassured her.

“Sure,” Sabrina nodded, obviously trying to suppress her disappointment. “No problem. I’ll see you guys later,” she said, keeping her eyes peeled for an empty spot while Susie and Roz returned to their seats.

“I don’t know if I know anyone else here,” Sabrina said nervously. “A lot of these girls are from Lucy’s volleyball team in Riverdale.”

“‘What’s that phrase Hilda always says?” Zelda asked. “‘Every stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet?’”

“You say all of Hilda’s phrases are irritating nonsense,” Sabrina reminded her.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they don’t occasionally have some merit,” Zelda said. “Let’s go make some friends, shall we?” Zelda asked, planting them at a small table surrounded by four chairs. There were abandoned cardigans on two of them already, their owners a mystery. 

Zelda took the napkin from atop the tiny plate, smoothing it onto her lap. She shifted the silverware so it laid perfectly straight on the tablecloth.

“Oh no,” she heard Sabrina whisper after a moment.

“What?” Zelda asked. 

Sabrina didn’t respond, just continued to murmur. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh, please no.”

“Why are you mumbling to yourself like some sort of deranged heathen? It’s not becoming,” Zelda scolded.

Sabrina gritted her teeth and closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s-”

“Gertie,” a peppy voice said. “It seems someone’s decided to join us.”

Zelda looked up to see a woman who looked eerily similar to Sarah—right down to the bad haircut and gaudy lipstick. They even had on the same sweatshirt, the only difference being that this woman’s was bright orange.

“Hi, Gertie,” Sabrina greeted, mustering up a small smile.

A tiny brunette at the woman’s side crossed her arms. “Sabrina,” she said simply, face scrunching up in disdain.

The woman seemingly didn’t notice the glaring display of rudeness, launching into a well-rehearsed spiel. 

“My name is Emily Miller. You may know me as the CEO of Emily Miller Enterprises—Greendale’s one and only manufacturer of completely gluten-free, sugar-free, hormone-free vegan snacks.” She pointed to a logo that read EME superimposed on a mountain on the chest of her sweatshirt. “Sarah’s wearing one, too,” Emily continued. “I know it may seem rather coven-like, what with the matching outfits and intense dedication to the cause, but you have to believe me when I say it’s nothing like that!” Sarah completed her speech with a practiced, artificial laugh. 

“Oh, I do,” Zelda assured her. “You don’t have to worry about that.” Zelda tried not to let it show just how offended she was that this vapid woman would dare compare her daft vanity project to the devilish glory of a coven, even in jest. 

“The company’s scaling astronomically fast,” Emily informed her. “That’s why I hired Sarah on. I just couldn’t keep up with demand anymore. We’re rolling out new products all the time. We’re even toying with the idea of branching into baked goods. My little Gertie’s birthday is next week, and we’re trying out a new cake mix recipe.”

“Sounds delightful, although I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it,” Zelda replied curtly. 

“Well,” Emily replied, caught off guard by Zelda’s lack of enthusiasm. She moved her and Gertie’s jackets to the backs of the chairs. “Remind me to give you my business card later. Clean eating is so important these days, what with all the toxins from processed foods. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Zelda had never been so tempted to tell someone about the Feast of Feasts. She weighed the threat of excommunication against the delight she would get in experiencing this dreadful woman’s reaction to her church’s revered tradition of ritual cannibalism. “Absolutely,” Zelda replied. “Fresh is certainly preferable.” 

Emily took a seat just as a server came around to pass out a tray of teas and sweets. “Remind me again what you do again?”

“She buries dead people,” Gertie said in disgust. 

“That’s actually factually inaccurate, dear,” Zelda replied. “As a mortician, I help prepare the bodies of the deceased for burial, but it’s a gravedigger who actually lowers them into the ground.” Zelda turned to Emily. “Perhaps instead of the cake, you should consider gifting her a dictionary for her birthday,” she suggested, taking a sip of her tea. Sabrina bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. 

“Perhaps you’re right.” Emily chuckled uncomfortably. “But a mortician. Wow. What an..unusual job.”

“Is it?” Zelda asked, taking a small bite of a dry oatmeal raisin cookie. “It seems to me your profession is much more peculiar. People die every day. In fact, dying is the one thing the entire human race has in common. It’s the fragility and fleetingness of life that connects you—I mean us—all."

Emily’s eyes widened. She lowered the danish she was about to bite into back onto her plate. “Yes, well...I suppose that’s true.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially as if it would keep Sabrina and Gertie from overhearing. Really, it was insulting. “But aren’t you afraid of having Sabrina around all of those dead bodies? It all seems rather...morbid.”

“It’s my profession—no different than you surrounding Gertie with boxes of your little soy snacks,” Zelda said with finality. “And Sabrina can handle it. She’s a brave girl. Smart and kind, too,” Zelda placed a hand on Sabrina’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “Qualities I’m afraid are all too lacking in many of today’s young people.”

“Hm,” Emily mused, clearly sensing Zelda’s dig. She took a sip of tea. After a moment, she invasively reached out to caress Zelda’s broach. “Oh, how charming is this. My great-grandmother used to wear these all the time. So old-fashioned. Your whole style—it’s so classic.”

“Thank you,” Zelda said tersely. Mortals couldn’t lie convincingly if their pathetic lives depended on it. “And yours is quite daring. Bold.” 

“Construction coney,” Sabrina added. Zelda dug her fingernails into her leg. “Ow,” Sabrina muttered.

Emily shot Sabrina a taut smile. “That’s enough adult gab for today. Sabrina, tell me about yourself.”

“What about me?” Sabrina asked.

“Talk to me about that Kinkle boy. Harry, is it?”

Gertie took a break from sulking to roll her eyes. “Harvey, mom,” she said, her voice saturated with attitude. “His name is Harvey.” Deplorable—the both of them. 

“Yes, of course. Harvey. Gertie tells me you two are getting awfully chummy,” Emily raised her eyebrows suggestively. 

Zelda snapped her gaze over to Sabrina, whose face was growing as red as hellfire. “We’re just friends.” 

“A little birdie told me he kissed you on the playground,” Emily pushed.

“It was only once,” Sabrina said defensively, looking at Zelda with wide, panicked eyes. “And I told him not to do it again and that we should just be friends.”

Zelda took a deep breath, letting it go for the time being—this was not the time nor the place. She made a mental note to give Sabrina a stern talking-to later and reiterate the grave importance of her dark baptism and all that she would have to do—and not do—before then.

Thankfully for all of them, their conversation was interrupted by Sarah clanging a teacup with her knife and announcing that it was time to reset the room to do manicures and pedicures. 

Despite the rocky start, the rest of the event went by fairly smoothly. Zelda had to pretend to ooh and ahh over the subpar tea that was being served (it was hard to get excited about Earl Grey from the supermarket when she’d tasted Hilda’s homemade chamomile with infused herbs fresh from the garden) and grinned and bore it when Sabrina wiped off her perfectly applied signature dark purple nail polish, replacing it with a neon green (hadn’t she seen  _ The Wizard of Oz _ ? It seemed a bit on the nose), but there were nice moments as well.

Zelda had scarcely heard Sabrina laugh so hard as when she smeared a pinch of flour onto her niece’s chin while they baked cookies together. She, Roz, and Susie ended up winning the three-legged race in the backyard, collapsing into giggles once they crossed the finish line. Even Sarah wasn’t completely intolerable when you could get her away from Emily. 

“Sabrina, start stacking these dishes,” Zelda ordered once the party had almost emptied out, only a few stragglers remaining. The hovering women were getting their ears talked off by Emily, no doubt about EME’s ludicrous products, while the kids sat near the entrance to the kitchen, gossiping amongst themselves.

Sabrina obediently got up from the circle and started placing one plate on top of the other. Zelda began clearing off the piles, bringing them back to the kitchen area. 

“Oh, leave it!” Sarah ordered. “I’ll get them later.” 

“Nonsense,” Zelda brushed her off. “You’ve done plenty. I insist you let us help you tidy up.”

Sarah shot her a grateful look. “I appreciate it.”

Zelda was on her final trip back to the sink when she spied the group of young girls looking pointedly at Sabrina. “What a freak,” she heard Gertie say. “I bet she smells bad because she lives with corpses. Rotten—just like her dead mom.” 

Sabrina continued stacking the last few mugs, pretending she didn’t hear the comment. To the untrained eye, it might even have looked as if she didn’t. But Zelda was no untrained eye. She saw Sabrina’s tiny flinch at the mention of Diana, and then she saw red as seering as a blood moon.

What Zelda did next wasn’t her finest moment. Although she wasn’t particularly proud of her actions, she thought she deserved some credit for showing restraint. After all, she was tempted to curse Gertie’s entire bloodline for eternity and make tarantulas crawl out of all her orifices. But no—Zelda didn’t use magic at all. Instead, she used the guise of good, old-fashioned human incompetence. What was that saying? When in the land of clumsy mortals, do as the clumsy mortals do. 

Zelda walked next to the circle of girls, half-empty mugs and serving bowls in tow. She pretended to bump into the newly-cleared table, spilling cold tea and globs of honey directly into Gertie’s hair.

“Oh, drat,” Zelda said dryly without a hint of remorse. “It seems I’ve made a mess.”

The following moments passed by in a blur. There was a shriek from Gertie. Horrified gasps from mothers. Small giggles from some of Gertie’s peers who couldn’t contain the joy they felt at seeing their ringleader humiliated. Sabrina ran into the kitchen to get Gertie a wet towel, saving the day. Playing the hero. Rubbing salt in the wound and reveling in every minute of it.

Once they were a safe distance from the house, Sabrina spoke. “Thank you, Aunt Zee. For what you did back there.”

“I haven’t the slightest notion what you’re talking about, Sabrina,” Zelda said. She looked over at her niece, curving her lips into a wicked smile. “I merely tripped.”


	3. Not Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabrina surprises Zelda...in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this particular story, but I'm sure I'll write for these characters again soon! Thank you so much for all your kind feedback! If you liked this story (or even if you didn't), please drop me a comment if you feel so inclined—I love hearing what you thought. :)

Zelda yawned and placed a bookmark in her novel. She’d recently began working her way through her first edition of _Paradise Lost_ again. The mortals considered it to be an epic tragedy, but it was one of her favorite comedic works. Milton’s wild misconceptions and inaccuracies about the Dark Lord were laughable—cute, even.

She plopped the book on the dark wooden coffee table, glancing at the large grandfather clock. It was nearing midnight. She had put Sabrina to bed hours ago, and Hilda and Ambrose had turned in shortly after.

Hilda’s joints were tired from painting—Zelda could only assume her mouth was tired, too, from her incessant prattling about Dr. Cee—and Ambrose was apparently exhausted from...well, doing whatever it was Ambrose did all day.

Zelda stood up from the sofa, clicking off the lamp and beginning to climb the stairs. She walked down the long hallway to her bedroom, doing a double take when she saw a small light peeking through the bottom crack of Sabrina’s door.

Zelda let out a deep, frustrated breath, drafting a lecture in her mind. This wasn’t the first time she’d been caught reading under the covers. Much to Zelda’s irritation, Hilda would merely half-heartedly chide Sabrina for it, charmed by her big imagination and thirst for knowledge.

Though Zelda could admit that sneaking a book into bed hardly qualified as a fatal infraction, they had to be strict about enforcing the rules and the subsequent consequences. Because the more you made exceptions, the more they would start to push the boundaries. And the next act of disobedience could lead to damage far worse than a papercut.

She swung open the door and, just as she suspected, was greeted with the faint outline of Sabrina clutching a flashlight.

“Sabrina,” Zelda said harshly. Sabrina jumped at the sudden presence, quickly stashing the flashlight and paper she had been holding under the sheet next to her, out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized, her voice watery. She looked up at Zelda, her face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Zelda’s posture relaxed, anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. Because while she was a firm stickler for maintaining law and order under her roof, it was for one sole purpose: to keep Sabrina from pain. Somehow, she had failed at that tonight, and now she had an obligation to heal the hurt.

Zelda slowly walked over to Sabrina’s bed, kneeling down next to it. She folded her arms on top of the mattress. “What’s got you all worked up?” she asked softly.

Sabrina wiped her nose with the sleeve of her pajama top. She was already petite for a ten-year-old, and the action made her look even smaller. “Nothing,” she insisted weakly.

“Well, we both know that’s not true,” Zelda said patiently. “What’s got you so upset, hm? Is it Gertie?” she prodded.

Sabrina let out a small wince, which Zelda took as an affirmative. Her body wracked with sobs, and she struggled to get enough air into her lungs, gasping.

Zelda reached out, delicately positioning Sabrina’s chin so she was forced to look her in the eye. “Breathe, Sabrina,” she ordered gingerly. “Take a deep breath and tell Auntie Zee what’s the matter.”

Sabrina shut her eyes while Zelda gently rubbed her back, transferring soothing energy through her fingertips. After a few moments, Sabrina managed to get her breathing under control. “Good girl,” Zelda praised, thumbing away Sabrina’s tears. “That’s a good girl.”

After she had sufficiently calmed herself, Sabrina looked at Zelda. “I’m glad you came with me today,” she said.

Zelda nodded slowly, unsure of where this was headed. “I am, too.”

“But...my mom...I just wish…” Sabrina stuttered, glancing over towards her flashlight.

Zelda peered in the direction as well, spying an old photograph of Diana peeking out from under the blanket. Zelda's shoulders tensed. Of course. She should have seen this coming. It all made sense now.

“You just wish your mother could have been there with you instead,” Zelda finished.

“Not instead,” Sabrina said adamantly. “ _Too._ I wish we could all be together—the six of us: my parents, Ambrose, Auntie Hilda, me, and you.” Sabrina picked at a loose thread on her quilt. “But I guess that probably wouldn’t have happened anyway,” she said.

Zelda was taken aback at how nonchalantly she delivered a sentence that was so wise beyond her years. In all honesty, she was probably right. It probably _wouldn’t_ have worked. Their lives would certainly look different if Edward and Diana were still alive. She and Sabrina surely wouldn't be as close. Zelda's relationship with Edward was notoriously turbulent, both of them too stubborn for their own good, and there’s no telling where that would have landed them. If either one of her parents wouldn’t have passed, who knows if Sabrina would even be in her life at all?

She didn’t even want to think about that—it was too much to bear.

Although Zelda was stunned at the insightfulness of Sabrina’s comment, more than anything, it scared her. Sabrina was an idealist, at times to an exasperating fault. Hearing her speaking so despondently, with such morosity, was unnerving.

“I know you didn’t like her,” Sabrina said quietly—knowingly. “But sometimes I miss her.” Her voice cracked, and a fresh tear sprung from her eye.

“And that’s perfectly all right,” Zelda assured Sabrina, climbing onto the bed. She wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “That’s perfectly all right, understand?”

The two sat in silence like that for a while. Zelda pursed her lips, carefully considering her next words. “Truthfully, I didn’t know your mother all that well,” she admitted. “There were many reasons that contributed to that, and I confess I must take my fair share of the blame. You have to understand, Sabrina—it all became such a mess so quickly. Secrets were kept, sides were taken, poor choices were made.”

“Like me,” Sabrina said faintly.

“No,” Zelda corrected firmly. “Not like you. You, my darling girl, have never been a mistake. Not ever,” she said, squeezing her arm with a conviction that demanded to be believed.

“I admit I had my differences with your mother,” Zelda continued. “But if there is one thing I know, it’s that no woman who helped create you could have been entirely bad.”

Sabrina shot Zelda a small, sad smile before fixing her eyes back on her lap. Zelda comfortingly combed her fingers through Sabrina’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda apologized with a rare sincerity. “If I made you feel like you couldn’t talk about her. You can,” she assured her. “Any time you wish. I’ll be here to listen.”

“I just...wish I could have known her.”

“I wish that, too,” Zelda replied. “But there is not a single doubt in my mind that she loved you very much,” she paused. “Still does—wherever she may be, Satan rest her soul.”

Zelda wasn’t sure she believed that. She wasn’t convinced there was an afterlife for humans at all, let alone one a happy one where they were still conscious of earthly affairs and capable of emotion. Zelda swore she would never lie to Sabrina, swore she would always be honest and straightforward and talk to her like an adult, but maybe sometimes it was okay to err on the side of optimism. Maybe there was a rare occasion where hope was more important than truth.

“I know that I’m not your mother,” Zelda said, unexpectedly choking up. She cleared her throat, attempting to maintain an air of composure and dignity. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I love you fiercely, Sabrina—as much as one could possibly love another. More, even. I hope you know that, though perhaps I don’t say it enough.”

“You do,” Sabrina said without hesitation. “You show me every day.”

Sabrina closed her eyes, cuddling closer to Zelda. Right as she suspected that Sabrina had begun to drift off, she jolted upright. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot.”

Zelda furrowed an eyebrow as Sabrina crawled to the other side of her bed, reaching into her drawer. She retrieved an envelope and handed it to Zelda, smiling impishly.

“I pray this isn’t an invitation to another tea party,” Zelda teased. “I think I’ve reached my quota for the next hundred years or so.”

Sabrina giggled. “Just open it.”

Zelda lifted the flap. Inside was a paper decorated with a teddy bear holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a heart-shaped balloon in the other. It was a generic Mother’s Day card, the only exception being that Sabrina had taken the liberty of making some additions. She’d inserted the words “unholy god” in parenthesis, making it read: “Happy (Unholy God)Mother’s Day!”

“I know you think drugstore cards are silly, but-”

“Thank you, Sabrina,” Zelda said, throat tightening up once again. She placed a kiss on her niece’s temple. “I love it.”


End file.
